


tinnitus

by pasupare



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Light Angst, M/M, bc i just think that healthy relationships with good communication are very sexc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26402074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pasupare/pseuds/pasupare
Summary: It begins with a glance from Osamu. A glance, partnered with a frown that Kiyoomi isn’t really used to seeing directed his way—at least not from Osamu.Osamu's tired of keeping people on leashes and Kiyoomi doesn't realize he's been one of the dogs.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu & Sakusa Kiyoomi, Miya Osamu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 90





	tinnitus

The night starts out relatively stress-free. As stress-free as dinner with your boyfriend and his annoying, attention-seeking brother can be.

So the night starts out relatively stress-free until Atsumu opens his mouth.

It’s not that Kiyoomi hates Atsumu, nor does he purposely find fault in everything that he says or does. It just _happens_. He accepted long ago that he and Atsumu are just not compatible people. Which is unfortunate, because he and Osamu _are_. Very much so. And it only took Kiyoomi three months of Osamu flirting with him to realize this.

“Did you see Romero’s spike in that last set?! It was so freakin’ cool!” Atsumu bats his hands down on the table like he’s an over-excited puppy and not an over-excited, twenty-four-year-old man.

Kiyoomi narrows his eyes, “How eloquently put.”

It begins with a glance from Osamu. A glance, partnered with a frown that Kiyoomi isn’t really used to seeing directed his way—at least not from Osamu. Usually, he’s on board with any Atsumu-teasing that Kiyoomi starts, joining in at the expense of his brother. But tonight isn’t the usual night. They don’t _usually_ go out to eat, let alone to very nice and frankly expensive restaurants whose owner Osamu is apparently friends with. Osamu doesn’t _usually_ suggest going anywhere with both Kiyoomi and Atsumu and especially not with the excuse that ‘I just want to spend time with the two of you.’ And Kiyoomi isn’t _usually_ this easily irritable, but it’s hardly been two hours since practice ended and Miya Atsumu is a leech that drains every last bit of patience he has.

Atsumu twirls his chopsticks in Kiyoomi’s direction, “I’m gonna pretend that I didn’t hear that.”

Kiyoomi just takes a sip of his wine and avoids eye contact with either of them. He got the message. No teasing tonight. No arguments. He’ll just have to take it easy on the alcohol for the rest of the dinner and keep his mouth shut.

And he really tries. For Osamu, he tries his best, even when Atsumu doesn’t. Even when Atsumu starts to get a little tipsy and his filter starts to slip. Or fall away completely.

“And then Omi-kun totally fucked up on that toss I gave him—it’s a good thing Shouyou-kun was there for the rebound. It would’ve cost us the game,” Atsumu laughs, but there’s the same bitter contempt to his stare that Kiyoomi saw after last week’s match.

It wasn’t a groundbreaking moment. Atsumu had tossed the ball like he always had and Kiyoomi had jumped to spike it like he always would. Only Kiyoomi was late on the jump and couldn’t get his full palm on the ball for a proper hit. The easy block was saved by Hinata’s speed, just as Atsumu recounted.

It was an obvious mistake on Kiyoomi’s part. He’d be more than willing to admit that to anybody else in the world except for Atsumu who made it his personal mission to see that Kiyoomi never lives those obvious mistakes down.

He only glares back at Atsumu’s petty derision. That should be all he has to do because he can hear the warning in Osamu’s voice as it lowers to reprimand a disobedient dog—or his inebriated brother, “‘Tsumu.”

“What?” Atsumu raises his voice in feigned innocence, “I’m just callin’ it like it is. No hard feelings, Omi-kun. I know it’s difficult to keep up with me sometimes—I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you.”

“ _Atsumu_.” 

It’s strange to hear Osamu call his brother by his actual given name rather than his nickname—even when he’s pissed. Atsumu always says he sounds like their mom when he does because it’s only ever when he has that ring of disappointment to his usual bite.

The nuance doesn’t really register with Kiyoomi though. He doesn’t realize Osamu’s about to call Atsumu down, because Kiyoomi’s already on the matter.

“Well maybe I could’ve scored the point if you hadn’t given me such a shit toss. Expecting me to reach that high like I’m fucking Adriah.”

“Hey—” Osamu starts but is cut off.

“Are you saying my tosses aren’t good enough for ya', Omi-kun?” Atsumu sneers, leaning over the table, “I know what you’re capable of even better than you do. I know my whole fucking team! And you’re sayin’ _I’m_ the one who made the wrong call?”

Kiyoomi stays in his chair—his sobriety a thin leash on him that Atsumu broke free of after his last glass. Still, he sits up straighter, hands digging into his pants, “Yeah, I am. And that you’re a narcissistic, stuck-up brat who doesn’t know when to stop running his mouth. Maybe if you got your head out of your own ass you’d know where to set your tosses.”

“Oh, that is so fuckin’ rich coming from—”

“Would you both shut _up_ ,” Osamu barely contains a yell through gritted teeth.

Now, Osamu getting mad at Atsumu isn’t a rare occasion. And Kiyoomi won’t say he _likes_ it when he does, however, he will say that it’s funny and kind of hot. But Osamu getting mad at Kiyoomi _is_ a rare occasion. In fact, it’s never been an occasion at all until right now. Osamu’s never even raised his voice at him and Kiyoomi hadn’t really considered the possibility either.

But now he can’t say that, because Osamu won’t look at him—will only glare at his brother—and Kiyoomi knows it’s on purpose. He knows it’s because they’ve never fought before and Osamu doesn’t really know how to handle being mad at Kiyoomi just as much as Kiyoomi doesn’t know how to handle having Osamu mad at him. So Kiyoomi will keep staring in shock and Osamu will keep avoiding his eyes and let Atsumu be the direct target instead.

Atsumu—who is _very_ used to Osamu being mad at him, unlike Kiyoomi. Atsumu—who is seemingly oblivious to the tension at the table that might as well be physically evident to Kiyoomi.

It feels like whiplash to watch him pick his chopsticks back up and start sifting through the mushrooms he left on his plate as he shrugs, “Omi-kun started it.”

“I don’t give a fuck who started it!” Kiyoomi jumps at the guttural edge to Osamu’s voice. The words sting in his ears—second-hand poison from a bite meant for Atsumu. He can tell Osamu’s grinding his teeth before he exhales through his nose and continues, significantly quieter, “You’re both annoying as hell and I’m sick of listening to you argue all the damn time. I was _hoping_ that I could have a nice night with the two people I love most, but that was stupid of me to expect you to behave like fuckin’ adults.”

He gets up before either of them can reply, “I’m going to pay so we can leave.”

Kiyoomi stares after him, mouth agape, before he turns back to Atsumu who’s just pouting into his plate with his head resting on his hand. He wants to ask what the fuck just happened or why the fuck it happened, but Atsumu won’t meet his eyes and he’s too stunned to ask verbally.

The hours tick by—except they don’t. It’s probably only a solid minute before Atsumu mumbles, “Sorry,” without even looking up at him.

Kiyoomi wants to say it too; he wants to say that he didn’t mean what he said and that he was just pissed because Atsumu _is_ a brat, but his tosses are always good. He wants to say that, yes, he fucked up and, yes, he’s lucky Hinata was there and that Atsumu was right about everything and that’s what pissed him off the most. But the uneasy air has made his mouth dry and his throat feels tight with all the excuses he doesn’t know how to articulate for when Osamu gets back. So instead, he doesn’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything, even when Osamu returns and still won’t meet his eyes. “‘Kay, let’s go,” is all Osamu offers to either of them.

He doesn’t say anything, even when Atsumu pulls Osamu aside by the entrance to the restaurant.

“Samu, can we talk?”

“No. I don’t have anything else to say tonight.” Because Osamu knows if he tried to talk to Atsumu now, nothing good would come from it.

He doesn’t say anything, even on the ride home, and neither does Osamu.

He still won’t look at Kiyoomi as he shrugs his jacket off, hangs it up, and promptly goes for the sink where he starts washing dishes. Dishes that Kiyoomi is certain are already clean because Sakusa Kiyoomi doesn’t let dirty dishes pile up and he washed them this morning which is why they were on the drying rack where Osamu is taking them out from. But he’s not going to stop him.

Kiyoomi stays away, on the other side of the island, with Osamu’s back to him. He thinks about what to say and rests his hands on the counter because it feels like Osamu would somehow be able to see the physical manifestation of his shame if he left them hanging vulnerably at his side. He thinks and waits for the right moment, but that never comes.

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know how long it takes, but Osamu’s still washing dishes that are already clean and he’s still standing across the kitchen, motionless. He thinks his face must be hotter than the water that’s coming out of the faucet, or else Osamu would be flinching away in pain.

“Let’s not talk about it tonight, Kiyoomi,” Osamu doesn’t dignify him with a glance, but his voice is much softer, much more tired than it was when he conveyed the same message to Atsumu. His voice softer, but his tone still warns, _I don’t want to say anything that I’ll regret later_.

Kiyoomi considers giving Osamu the space he’s asked for. He looks at his hands instead of the back of Osamu’s head and thinks about the way Osamu’s frown made his heart drop and the way Osamu’s words burned his ears and the way Osamu saying ‘ _the two people I love most_ ’ made him want to throttle himself for not seeing what Osamu was hoping to achieve with that dinner from the start. He looks at his hands and figures he won’t be able to fall asleep tonight if he gives Osamu what he’s asked for, and then he’d be screwed for morning practice.

“I’ll fix it,” his voice cracks, but it’s only because he’s been quiet for too long. “I’ll talk to Mi— Atsumu. We won’t fight anymore.”

Osamu laughs, but it’s more like a mix between an exhale and a scoff, “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“I’m serious. I care about you more than I dislike him. We can work it out on our own, you don’t have to worry.”

Osamu finishes drying off his hands before gripping the edge of the sink, resting his weight on one foot. He still won’t turn around. “Yeah, okay.”

Kiyoomi waits because he’s never the one that makes the first move. Osamu was the one who asked him out, Osamu was the one who kissed him first, Osamu was the one who suggested they move in together. But Osamu doesn’t move from his spot at the sink and Kiyoomi isn’t sure if he can even cross the boundary he’s set for himself in this kitchen, so all he says is, “I love you.”

The sigh Osamu lets out is borderline dramatic as he runs his hands through his hair, “I love you too.” He finally turns around and he’s got this pout on his face like Kiyoomi had just eaten their last pudding and not ruined a very thoughtful, very expensive dinner, “I’m just annoyed with you right now.”

“I know,” Kiyoomi still doesn’t move, still keeps his hands flat on the island, “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Osamu mirrors. He’s watching him and now Kiyoomi kind of wishes he’d go back to washing clean dishes instead. He feels the ungrateful urge to look away, but he can’t after he wanted Osamu to acknowledge him for so long. So instead he curls his hands into fists because he doesn’t know what else to do with his guilt.

“I just don’t get why you two are like that. I mean— Yeah, ‘Tsumu can be a dick, but you don’t get that defensive with anybody else.” Kiyoomi realizes how right Atsumu was about Osamu’s disappointed-mom-vibes when he crosses his arms.

“I don’t know why either. If it’s any consolation, we were like this before I got to know you.”

Osamu snorts, and it’s not laced with any venom this time, “I know that too.”

He turns his attention to the side and lets his shoulders relax. He looks tired and _done_ , but he still hasn’t made the move that Kiyoomi’s been waiting for since he decided to stand so far away when all he wants is to be close. So he reiterates, “I’m gonna work on it.” He meets Osamu’s eyes again and adds, more quietly, “I want to make you happy.”

Osamu smiles and finally, _finally_ walks around the island to stand in front of Kiyoomi and reach out to hold his face. Kiyoomi doesn’t try to stop himself from leaning into the touch—not that he ever would stop himself with Osamu.

“You do make me happy,” Osamu pulls him in to rest their foreheads together and closes his eyes. The day wears on his features, but he’ll always have that same relaxed charm that drew Kiyoomi in to begin with. That same relaxed charm that tells Kiyoomi he’s not going anywhere, that he can be as patient as he needs to be. It’s that charm that makes Kiyoomi want to do everything in his power so that Osamu doesn’t have to be patient.

He lets his hands find Osamu’s waist, “Not as happy as I’d make you if I got along with your brother.”

Osamu just smiles and hums and it’s the most relaxed Kiyoomi has seen him all night. He waits—watches for a couple of moments, taking in all that he can of Osamu. He’s once again waiting for him to make the first move, but he realizes maybe Osamu’s tired of always having to be that person. Tired of always having to be the mature one who has to decide when to hold people back or push them forward. So Kiyoomi lowers his head those couple of centimeters more until he can kiss him. It’s chaste and shy, but Osamu doesn’t pull away, so Kiyoomi kisses him again and again, deeper until Osamu wraps his arms around his neck to pull him close.

“I love you,” he says again against Osamu’s lips because he wants him to hear it, but more than that, he wants him to feel it—to know it. He says it because he doesn’t say it often enough, but he means it more than anything else he could say to him right now. He says it because he doesn’t like when he makes Osamu frown or cross his arms, but he really likes it when he makes Osamu smile so easily like this.

“I love you too,” his eyes are still closed and he sounds as tired as Kiyoomi feels, “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“It’s okay. I deserved it.”

Osamu snickers, “Well, I’m not gonna say you’re wrong.” He loosens his grip on Kiyoomi’s neck and opens sleepy eyes, “But I trust you. Can we go to bed now? I’m exhausted.”

Kiyoomi kisses him one last time before pulling away, “It’s from all those dishes you washed.”

Osamu leads the way and Kiyoomi lets himself be pulled, “They were clean, I was just wasting water.”

It’s Kiyoomi’s turn to laugh now, “Oh, so you did know.”

It’s not until Kiyoomi plugs his phone in for the night that he sees he has a message from Atsumu. The timestamp is from a little over an hour ago; he must’ve sent it after they left the restaurant.

_can we talk tomorrow? ill buy u lunch or something_

_yeah. you don’t have to pay though_ , Kiyoomi replies.

He doesn’t expect the immediate response, _im fucking paying!_ Then, _just lmk where u wanna go_

_ok i’ll think about it_

As per usual, it doesn’t take long for Osamu to fall asleep. Kiyoomi considers what he’ll say to Atsumu as he listens to Osamu’s slowed breathing and occasional snoring. ‘Sorry for being a bitch’ is pretty high on the list of conversation topics he can come up with. He considers ‘Your tosses are fine, I just messed up,’ but he mentally scratches that one off because Atsumu’s head is already big enough. He tentatively leaves ‘You’re a good teammate’ on the list, but that’ll just have to depend on how generous he is once they start talking.

He still feels bad about the dinner. And he feels bad that Atsumu probably feels even worse since he wasn’t able to talk to Osamu. But part of Kiyoomi still thinks he deserves it anyway and decides he’s not going to worry about Atsumu anymore. Instead, he'll worry about how Osamu’s snoring is going to keep him from waking up on time in the morning.

“Hey, babe, you’re loud,” Kiyoomi rolls over and shakes Osamu’s shoulder who only tightens his hold on him.

Osamu groans, mumbles, “Sorry,” like he has any reason to be, and then shoves his face into the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck. At least, like this, he’s more likely to suffocate than keep Kiyoomi awake.

Kiyoomi cards his fingers through Osamu’s hair and more feels his sigh rather than hears it. He prefers this. Even the occasional noise is better than what troubled him earlier. A tired Osamu is much less startling to his ears—much less agonizing to his heart—than an angry Osamu is.

Kiyoomi doesn’t mind the rattling snores or the warm sighs that come from his mouth as long as they’re replaced with lazy smiles and sweet declarations in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been sitting on this for weeks now and i don't even know why so i'm posting it because it doesn't look like words to me anymore.  
> anyway i really like sakusa and atsumu's dynamic in like.. a non-romantic way. i think they would kill each other in close quarters but i'm always down for some 'enemies to begrudging allies because i care about somebody that cares about you' so osaomi gives me the perfect setting for them. also i just *clenches fist* really like the idea of sakusa being able to turn off the bitchiness with osamu to just be vulnerable and osamu knowing he's the only person who sakusa will unwind like that with. i'm a sap for sappiness.  
> also i'm on [twitter](https://twitter.com/hildahresvelg)!


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